Response Time
by trufflemores
Summary: 1.14. Barry gets turned into a kinetic-needle hedgehog.


Gah-hah- _hah_.

Barry pants, "Maybe it would be easier if we ripped – a lot of them, at once." Gesturing vaguely to his chest, he adds pleadingly, "Or dump me in a freezer, maybe that'll – numb it."

He snarls when Caitlin yanks one of Eiling's kinetic needles from his chest, feet drumming against the table before he forces himself up.

"Okay, okay," he says, holding up a hand to keep Cisco from putting a reassuring hand on his needle-covered shoulder. Best of intentions. "You know what? I can live like this." He grimaces, struggling to hold himself as still as possible, willing it on a molecular level. He's always loved the lightning under his skin, but the needles are drawn to it, magnetized, resisting Caitlin whenever she tries to pull them free, and he just needs to get them _out_ before he loses his cool.

"Actually, I think he has the right idea," Ronnie says thoughtfully.

Barry arches an eyebrow ( _ow_ ).

"Maybe we should freeze him," Ronnie explains. Then, with a shrug, he adds, "It might slow down the healing."

"That might work," Cisco says, putting a hand gingerly on the middle of Barry's back as Barry climbs painstakingly to his feet. With an effort, he doesn't howl, even though every step makes the needles _sear_. "Come on, buddy," Cisco encourages, helping him limp into the adjacent lab and onto a table, the ventilation system blasting cool air as it comes to life. Ronnie sits at the helm, adjusting controls from outside the room.

In thirty seconds, the temperature is hovering just above freezing.

"That's one hell of a system," Barry says, forcing the words out from behind gritted teeth.

The air keeps falling until they hit zero, encouraging Cisco and Caitlin to throw on Star Labs parkas and gloves while Barry resists the urge to shiver at super speed and warm himself up. Because even though his face is numb and his hands hurt, the next needle Caitlin pulls out slides out easily and oh, thank God.

"Fantastic," he says, his breath misting in front of him, a genuine smile breaking through. "You're a miracle worker, Ronnie," he adds in Ronnie's direction. Ronnie tips an invisible hat in his direction from behind the glass barrier, Dr. Wells overseeing the operation with quiet, contemplative eyes.

"I try," Ronnie says over the intercom.

Caitlin pulls out six more needles in relatively quick succession – the gloves impede her work, but her hands are still steady as she drops each one into the container Cisco holds – before Barry shivers once involuntarily and _groans_ , feeling every single barb settle in a little more, electrifying points of pain erupting across his skin.

"Wow, that is – really – really unpleasant," he gasps, reaching down with his own shaking hands and carelessly pulling out a handful of needles in his chest. He yells – it hurts like _hell_ – but that's four less needles that Caitlin has to handle, his fingers slightly bloodied as he drops the needles on the floor.

Sensing Barry's impatience, Cisco sets the dish on a side table and, digging a second set of tweezers out from one of the cabinets, sets to work on Barry's left hand. Without breaking pace, Caitlin keeps prying needles out of his chest methodically. Barry grunts softly with each one, breathing heavily through his mouth as Cisco works, closing his eyes in sheer _relief_ when he drops the final needle into the dish.

"Thirty-two down, sixty-eight to go," Cisco says triumphantly.

Barry doesn't throw up – with an effort – but he appreciates Ronnie's voice over the intercom as he says, "You have a terrible bedside manner, Cisco."

"Hey, I'd like to see you play 'un-pin the cushion' with Sonic the hedgehog here," Cisco retorts, eliciting a yell when he accidentally yanks a needle that's fairly _stuck_ out with one enthusiastic tug. "Sorry."

"S'okay," Barry says, swallowing. "You're doing great. Keep it up. Please."

Cisco obliges, and between the two of them he's sixty percent un-pinned and breathing more evenly within five minutes.

Of course, it's still the _longest_ five minutes of his life and Barry thinks he'd break his _you're not a bad guy; treat him humanely_ rule for Eiling. He'd love to see him have a taste of his own medicine. The process has become so engrained that it's almost tolerable, less like torture and more like a medical procedure. Something he can endure. An end is in sight: he just has to hang on and it'll be there faster.

Eyes closed, he listens to them talk about Eiling, sinking into a stupor. The cold helps. It's almost like he isn't there: his entire body is a little on the numb side now, and if he were a kid his dad would be hauling him inside with a friendly smile, reminding him—

 _Hat, Bar. And gloves._ (Tugging the offending articles over Barry's head and hands respectively, Joe relaxes on one knee, smiling at him.) _There. Now you're set._

(Barry smiles back, cheeks flushed from the cold.) _Thanks_. (Catching Joe around the middle in a hug, he takes off into the backyard, _oomphing_ when Iris nails him square in the back of the head with a snowball.)

 _Be nice to each other_. (Joe's amused reminder catches him as he rights himself, Iris flashing Joe a thumbs-up, and then they're off, chasing each other around the yard.)

Barry comes to just as Cisco says, "Ninety-nine . . . one hundred!"

There's a tugging sensation and Barry thinks it might be painful, but he's been laying in the snow too long, he's _cold_ , and sitting up is hard but it's doable with Caitlin's help. He's leaning against her hard enough he's afraid he's going to knock her over, but she just plants her feet, stronger than she looks, and doesn't even complain when he almost knocks the tray of needles over with a clumsy hand. Cisco catches it, spiriting them out of sight while Caitlin sets down her tweezers and loops an arm underneath his shoulders, all but carrying him into the main lab.

He's cold and shaking, but Ronnie puts a pre-warmed coat ( _it's his own coat_ ) around Barry's shoulders, stepping in on his opposite side to help him to the nearest chair.

Barry drops into it, attempting unsuccessfully to shiver his way to warmth again, and someone drags out a space heater and a lot of people are talking, but all Barry's really conscious of is the way the lightning under his skin remains dormant, hard to reach, for twelve long seconds.

Then he manages to drop into that space, everyone else freezing as he glides out of the chair, shrugging out of Ronnie's coat carefully before freeing himself from his bloodied suit.

 _You got blood on my suit_.

 _I'm sure_ some of it _is his._

He's grateful that everyone else is turned towards each other – even at super speed, it's nice to have a shred of modesty – as he stands briefly in nothing but his boxers, before he pulls on a fresh set of clothes, feeling everything settling into place. The wounds are healing over – all of them – and there's a pleasant warmth racing under his skin, spreading outward from his chest and making everything so much more bearable.

(Inside Joe's place, cradling a mug of hot chocolate, sitting with his feet in front of a fire, and Iris is sitting hip-to-hip beside him, her laptop on the floor next to her, a disgruntled furrow to her brow as she searches her notes. She's frustrated because he's explained this to her but incorporating it is _impossible,_ but Barry couldn't be more satisfied, flexing his chilled toes in front of the crackling fireplace. It's just above freezing and if it keeps snowing as hard as it's been he'll have to shovel _again_ before work in the morning, but he can't be upset, feeling happiness spread to his core.)

Barry takes his time, slowing everything down as far as he can, practically sinking through the floor with how fast he's _actually_ vibrating, and he's peripherally aware of how fast he's moving, aware that he's creating mirages whenever he stands in place more than three of his seconds. Without a moment's hesitation, he lets himself out of the room, takes off at a _run_ that speeds the world up around him.

An electrifying _wholeness_ to his being takes over as he runs a few laps around Star Labs. This is why he loves the speed, the energy, the _lightning_. It's never painful, always on that side of _enough_ , and it makes him feel more alive, more connected, like every time and place and person he's meant to be and has been and _is_ are equally accessible.

He doesn't have to wait for the future. He _is_ the future.

Zipping through the hall, he comes to a halt outside of the main lab and brings himself back down. It's a paradoxical process: he's already perceiving their world in slow motion, but he's actually moving _too fast_ for them to see him. The only way to correct it is to consciously _slow down_ until he's moving in real time.

Drawing in deep, centering breaths, he walks in the main labs, ruffled hair, buzzing senses.

"What'd I miss?" he asks.

"Not much," Dr. Wells says.

"I found a new nickname for Eiling," Cisco chimes in. "I was thinking mondo-fricking-douchecanoe—"

" _Cisco_." Caitlin rolls her eyes.

"I missed you guys," Ronnie says, grinning, as he high-fives Cisco before wrapping an arm around Caitlin's waist.

And there's a beat – just a fraction of a second – where Barry thinks, _Where do I fit in?_ before reminding himself that Ronnie isn't his replacement. Ronnie is his _friend_. Partner, not competitor. _He's not even Eddie. He's in love with Caitlin, not Iris_.

Tucking _that_ particular jealousy in a drawer, Barry says simply, "Me, too." Then he picks Ronnie's coat up off the chair and holds it out to him. "Thank you," he adds seriously. "I wouldn't have made it back without you."

Ronnie smiles, dropping his arm around Caitlin's waist before squeezing Barry's shoulder lightly. "Of course." He shrugs back into his coat, adding, "You'd do the same for me."

Barry looks around the room at his friends, his family, his _team_.

And he will be damned if he lets Eiling hurt _any_ of them.


End file.
